


A Hunter’s Choice

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, Hunter School, Hunter!Stiles, M/M, hunter!Allison, repressed feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-08 16:51:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4312830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Orphaned] After the death of his Mother, Stiles is filled with rage and sorrow. His vengeful mind decides to send him off to a hunter camp to train as a hunter of the monsters that took her life. But when released on his first mission, too young and inexperienced, he is saved by Alpha-Werewolf Derek Hale.</p><p>Stiles soon discovers the supernatural world isn’t exactly what it appears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Settling In

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this Tumblr post: [x](http://cryodreams.tumblr.com/post/70396957436/au-stiles-father-gets-killed-by-a-rogue-omega-a)

‘You must decide, Master Stilinski,’ the Warden says. She points at the body to her left, ‘this creature?’ Her hand then moves up to her chest, ‘or your band of hunters?’ The gloved fingers brush against her leather coated sternum. Everything is covered to leave no DNA.

Stiles stares at her, breathless. He looks to the other hunters at her side for support; they were his friends. _Once_. However, Stiles finds nothing now but cold and phlegmatic soldiers. Staining red tears begin to cluster in his eyes. He reaches up and wipes them away fiercely with back of his hand.

_Hunters do not cry._

Quickly he glances to the creature she spoke of and immediately locks eyes with it… with _him_. Ears pointed, Derek’s brow is creased with the werewolf transformation and hair has sprouted from his cheeks. Yet behind those steel blues eyes, Stiles still sees the human he met only 6 months ago. The one who rescued him from an unexpected Alpha attack, tending his wounds even when his sarcasm became unbearable. The one that showed kindness when Stiles had expected violence and excrescence. The one that finally brought him out from the darkness of his Mother’s death. The one he…

_Hunters do not love monsters._

Stiles looks away with force and squeezes the gun tighter in his hand. He pushes a breath through his raw lungs and again wipes the new tears from his eyes. That was the mistake he made, falling for a monster and now is the time for penance. Returning his eyes to the Warden, Stiles continues to take deep breathes, calm his senses. He can still feel Derek’s gaze but doesn’t even dare side glance at this creature anymore. The lines on the Warden’s forehead highlight just how much it displeases her every time he does so.

_Hunters do as they are told._

‘You must chose wisely, Master Stilinski, for we do not have much time left before your freewill shall be taken, regardless,’ the Warden says.

Her words stick like a layer of thick grease on his skin and make Stiles want to run a wet cloth all over his body. She is lying, manipulating. Stiles can see now, when has a Hunter ever had the free will to really choose? His tears turn to disgust as he scowls at the Warden. ‘And what if I fail, sir, to make the wise choice?’ he says, bravely.

Her eyes harden. She does not like being challenged, especially after all Stiles has achieved in her service. Talent wasted. ‘You should notice the wise choice is not hard to make.’

That comments gets to Allison, who whimpers from where she being held at the Warden’s right. ‘Don’t listen to her, Stiles—!’ she manages before the Hunters restraining her get a knee to the stomach.

The Hunters continue to beat Allison as Stiles shifts on his feet, twiddling with his weight, moving it from one foot to the other. Her screams echo around this abandoned shopping mall. If this is how they treat an Argent, then the punishment set for Stiles doesn’t warrant thinking about. One of them hits Allison’s face drawing blood in her mouth and so she spits in the Hunter’s face. The girl groans in disgust, raising her arm to strike Allison harder.

‘Enough!’ Stiles screams. ‘Enough… please?’

The Warden raises her hand and the beating ceases.

It is now that Stiles notices how silent Derek is being. This is the man who during the first week of knowing him wouldn’t stop grunting or growling at every move Stiles made, so this silence means something. Is he challenging the Warden to do her worst for she will never make him beg? Or is this silence _for Stiles_? Is Derek attempting to communicate his betrayal? Does he genuinely believe Stiles will kill him?

_Can_ Stiles kill him?

Stiles is unable to stand these dark thoughts anymore, he dares a peek at Derek. They’d bound his hands. Hands that had touched Stiles like he was made of gold. A gag forces his mouth open so his teeth can’t be used to bite. Another hunter stands behind with a gun pointed to his head, in case Stiles doesn’t make the _correct choice_.

With all attention on him, his eyes don’t linger long since the sight makes them start to water again. He looks down, furiously wiping the tears, and then to the side where his best friend Scott resides. Arrows pin his arms and shoulder to the wall. One rests in his chest and appears to be a fatal wound but Stiles knows he’s not dead. Not yet, Scott has a few hours before enough blood drains from his body to kill such a beast. In fact all someone needs to do is pull that arrow out and he would be fine. It is quite simple, really.

‘I am growing _impatient_ , Stiles!’ the Warden’s voices brings him back to the matter at hand. Sighing, she snatches the gun pointed at Derek’s head, clicks back the head and then re-points it back at his head, only closer. Her eyes meet Stiles’ and she orders, ‘decide.’

This is it. There is no more delaying the inevitable. What needs to be done must be done now.

Slowly Stiles composes himself. He breathes in and then out. His gun is already pointed at the target all he needs to do is pull the trigger.

 

* * *

 

**_3 years earlier._ **

_“The Camp contains a strict routine for all its members. You must be up and ready by 0600 hours for morning run and showers. Then breakfast before training begins at 0800 and does not fault until 1800, where members gather for evening meal in the main hall…”_

Stiles’ eyes blurred out of boredom as he reached the bottom of the leaflet page, the words crashing and blending into each as a mesh of colour. He glanced up at his Dad across the Camp’s crisp white reception room. He was still filling out forms at the front desk and Stiles shifted impatiently. A part of him knew the Sheriff was yet to comprehend what he’s sending his son off to but after all it had been Stiles’ idea and he doesn’t need his Father to understand. He just needed him to hurry up with those forms.

Stiles flipped the leaflet onto its front. _Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent_ is written in big gold letters along the top. It must be French or something. Stiles had no idea what it meant, probably some insightful proverb or their biggest rule. It doesn’t matter.

Tapping the bit of chair between his legs, his eyes turned to the bag at his right. The anxiety stuck to the roof of his mouth whilst Stiles wondered whether he brought everything he should have. He won’t be seeing his Father until Xmas, which was in 4 months at the least and then he will have 2 weeks back, before being sent off again at the beginning of January. 4 months was a long time to put up with not having something. The bag bulged at the bottom because of his lucky pillow so good night sleeps were sorted at least. Sleep remained his only escape from reality at the moment, which in that case was all that mattered.

The receptionist called him over and that meant the forms were finally finished. Stiles knew he should have searched his bag one last time, just to be sure, but it made standing up and walking over to his Dad feel exhilarating so he was glad he didn’t.

Sheriff Stilinski forced a smile and they both knew it. ‘Here.’ He handed Stiles a piece of paper that he put into his pocket. ‘This is our address. You don’t have to write straight away but one letter would be nice. So remember to write it.’

‘I shall.’

He pulled Stiles into a hug. ‘I love you, Stiles,’ he said.

‘I love you too, Dad.’

The receptionist was standing by the door at the side, the entrance to the rest of the camp, so Stiles darted back, grabbed his bag and headed over to her.

‘Look after yourself, son,’ he heard his Dad say.

‘I will. I promise.’ Stiles said without looking back, if he did so now he might not leave at all. He watched the receptionist open the door before then walking inside.

The door led onto a long corridor with a set of windows to the side, which opened out onto a large inner-building courtyard filled with grass and a pond in the centre. Glass windows surrounded the entire courtyard and Stiles searched them for any signs of life. He found none so far. At the end of the corridor was a triple junction, where the receptionist stopped in the middle of.

She pointed to his left. ‘The student rooms are up there.’ She pointed to her left. ‘The lockers are down there.’ She moved forward and handed him an envelope, the key inside clearly visible through the flimsy paper. ‘You can find your locker later because for now you’re confined to your room until dinner. Under no circumstance you do not leave your room.’

The opportunity arose so Stiles seized it with both hands. ‘What if I really need to take a dump?’

She didn’t even flinch. ‘Every room is fitted with an on-suite.’ Stiles had to give it to her. These people must be tough. ‘Now if you please.’

Stiles followed her down the corridor to his left that suddenly became filled with door after door. She led him to the door on the last door on the end.

‘This is your room,’ she said, ‘see you at dinner,’ and then left him to it.

Stiles pulled the bag further up his shoulder before entering his Camp room for the very first time. From here on out, it would be 5 years of hard training and resilient determination, all of which he was going to make completely worth it.

Well, the first thing he noticed was the bland, greeny-cream carpet stretching off to four corners of the room. It was large but then the room was too. From the door, the left and right side contained a single bed, a wardrobe and a chest of drawers. The set furthest from the entrance, to the left, already appeared to be preoccupied with a purple suitcase lying half unpacked next to the wardrobe, yet the room seemed pretty empty. The extra person must have been in the _on-suite_ or something, Stiles mused. And just as he was dumping his bag down on the bed, a toilet flushed signalled that prediction was correct.

Figuring it was best to get on the good side of the person he’d been seeing every day for the next five years, if he had to with anyone, Stiles sat down on his bed and watched the other door door, presumably leading onto the on-suite. Being at a distance would be optimum to refrain from making the person jump with his presence since he doubted they’d heard him enter.

A few seconds later, the other door did indeed open, however, someone Stiles recognised stepped out. He didn’t process their identity immediately which allowed them some time to walk over to their stuff.

To be honest, a part of him simply couldn’t believe it. He knew he’d meet them eventually, he just didn’t think it would be so early or that they’d be his roommate. ‘Allison?’

She jumped at the sound of his voice and then turned sharply to look at him, where she was now crouched over her purple suitcase. Also taking a moment to process who he was, she said, ‘…Stiles?’

They both stood and met in the middle of the room. Stiles held out his hand but Allison pushed it to the side and pulled him in for a reluctant hug.

He moved back as quickly as he could. ‘So this is where you disappeared off to?’

‘Actually France was where I disappeared off to,’ she said, tucking some hair behind her ear. It was longer than he remembered. Although still the same dark shade as before, still just as curly, her skin as well the same tone of pink as before, still the same girl her and Scott would play with in junior high. In fact the only real difference was her height. She was taller than him now. Junior high Stiles would have been annoyed about that but right now he couldn’t care less. ‘This is where I came after. My family is the ones who run this camp.’

‘Well… that _is_ something.’

An awkward silence stretched out between them and eventually Stiles made a move back to his bed when Allison said, ‘so you’re my roommate then?’

He continued to his bed and began to unzip his bag. ‘It would appear so.’ He emptied a few things on the bed. His clothes, his wash kit, he flung his pillow at the top of the bed.

He took note of Allison calmly moving back across the room, the floorboards creaking under her weight and then the bed as she sat down. ‘You’ve changed, Stiles.’

At first, Stiles acted like he hadn’t heard her correctly. Briefly glancing back at her, he said, ‘what?’

‘I know you heard me the first time.’ She was looking directly at him, unfaltering.

Stiles sighed; the elephant in the room couldn’t be avoided. He mirrored her position, sitting down on his bed and staring directly at her. There was no easy way to put so he just came out with it. ‘My Mother died.’

Allison gasped. ‘When?’

‘A few months ago, maybe more, maybe less. I don’t really keep track.’

‘Why did she die?’ Allison said, cautiously.

Stiles didn’t mind answering; he would have told her anyway. ‘They say it was an animal attack, you know? That she was out too late, in the wrong part of the woods. But I knew there were something else, something not quite right. Dad wouldn’t hear it but I knew. Then these tall men showed up in town, asking a few questions about my Mum. I tried to corner them get some genuine answers but these guys were professionals. Although not as much they thought. I stole one of their books and it told me everything. About all the monsters and creatures in this world. I read about you and your infamous hunting family. I figured it expanded to more than just two men. So after some very _thorough_ research I found this place and here I am.’ Of course there was significantly more to it than that but sleepless nights and empty days were not worth mentioning by now. ‘How old were you when your parents told you about the supernatural world? Or is it some ritual you go through at a certain age?’

Allison completely ignored his question and instead said, ‘what does your Dad think about all this?’

‘I… well, he… he doesn’t actually know what this place is. There’s an option for that on the form, in case kids are from non-hunter families,’ he said. ‘Keeps things simple I guess.’

‘Yeah, I heard about that part.’ She regarded him for awhile and then said, ‘are you gonna be okay? About your Mum I mean?’

‘I’m fine, Allison,’ he said, firmly. ‘I’m here to become a soldier and nothing else.’

‘Okay.’ She looked to be satisfied on the matter but if she was anything like the Allison from junior high, Stiles knew this wouldn’t be the end of it. Sighing, Allison leaned back against her bed, causing her shoulders to hunch. ‘Want to play some monopoly? I brought the full-sized board game with me not a travel pack version since I already knew about the rule of not leaving your room until dinner.’

Stiles forced a smile. ‘Sure.’

That’s what they did until the dinner bell called at around 6pm. It sounded like an actually handheld bell, which definitely surprised him. Stiles had arrived here at 3:45-ish so it hadn’t been much of a wait. Plus his Dad had insisted on having one final meal together before they left, so to be honest, Stiles didn’t feel that hungry when finally him and Allison arrived at the dinner hall.

A massive white room, the dinner hall benches were set off into sections, one row for each year and then a row left for guests. Since they’d only just arrived that’s where Allison and Stiles were seated along with other newbie looking kids, before a tall, ginger, white woman walked towards the head of the room and blew a rather _loud_ whistle.

Everyone fell silent.

‘That’s my auntie,’ Allison whispered just before the ginger woman started talking.

She looked towards Stiles’ row. ‘For those who have just arrived today, I am Reese Argent and Warden of this camp.’ The woman wore heels, which Stiles thought was impractical for a Warden but then maybe she was more a _Warden of Finances_ rather than a _Warden of Soldiers_. Her hair had been cut short like Allison’s Mother and she possessed the same strong, broad jaw line. ‘I hope you made the most of your day off because it will be your last for a very long time. At 0700 you begin your training. I expect great things from all of you. We follow a strict code here and family is everything. So remember your place but above all remember what we give you.’ A smile apparently appeared across her red lips and it kinda freaked Stiles. ‘Please enjoy your meal.’ She blew the whistle again and then left the room.

Stiles turned to Allison and said something the old him would have said, ‘she’s a dream.’

To his surprise, she giggled and said, ‘you should see her at Christmas, she’s just as much a joy then.’

‘Lucky you.’

When it was time, they got up to get food. A hot meal was available but Stiles declined it in chose of a slice of sponge cake and a bottle orange juice. He held up the plate towards Allison as they made their way back to their seat, ‘I’m surprised they offer this kind of food here. Won’t cake kinda clash with the exercise regime?’

‘Well, you need it for the energy,’ she said, while balancing her hot meal and drink in one hand and another slice of cake in the other.

‘True.’

They mostly ate in silence. Stiles assumed Allison thought catching up on what had happened since the last time they were together would remind him of his Mum and therefore be painful. Either way, it meant he didn’t have to pretend to be the little kid she once knew as much as he thought and that worked for him.

Once finished they headed back to their room and got ready for bed. A good night’s sleep was the only thing they could do to prepare for tomorrow, Allison didn’t even know for sure what was in store and that had to mean something, didn’t it?

She used the bathroom first while Stiles proceeded to stuff his bag under his bed, deciding to unpack the rest tomorrow. When it was his turn, he quickly brushed his teeth, went to the loo, and then finally gave himself a good once-over in the mirror.

He didn’t instantly appear any different from usual but Stiles knew that wouldn’t last long. He would make sure of it.

Allison had already turned out the light and disappeared under the covers by the time Stiles came out. He headed over to his bed as quietly as possible to avoid waking her in case she’d fallen asleep but just as he reached it, she said, ‘I’m glad to see you again, Stiles. We should have kept in touch.’

‘We should have, yeah,’ Stiles said, of course trying to make sure it didn’t sound as bitter as he meant it. Allison’s departure back then was just another lie among many and Stiles was fed up of being lied to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta-ed so if there are any big mistakes let me know


	2. hunters do not cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First, they lure you in with gentle hands that help you move on
> 
> ‘Hunters do not cry, Master Stilinski,’ the Warden said. ‘They learn to move forward from their pain, instead, and make sure others do not suffer the same.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This barely has any kudos compared to my Matt/Foggy fic yet almost has just as much subscribers.
> 
> Where is the love, Teen Wolf fandom? And also why are you keeping up with my shitty-ness?

_It was raining heavily._

_Stiles’ eyes scanned the forest before him. It was hard to spot anything with such a thick fog coating the air yet he knew this was the place. Leaves or twigs, something crunched under his foot when he took a step forward. He inhaled and his lungs felt sharp._

_A scream struck the air like lightening and the next thing Stiles knew he was running. Towards the fog, towards the trees, everything blurred into one. Sounds fluttered past his ears and then were gone as soon as he realised what produced them. A siren, the flash of red and blue police lights. A dog’s bark, a shadow zipping into his blind spot. A low laugh, the silhouette of a figure watching from a distance. Where were they?_

_Another scream._

_Stiles ran faster. Instinctively, his head darted to the side but he didn’t know why. Then abruptly he thought of Scott and his asthma. He wouldn’t be able to keep up with this speed. Stiles must have left him behind. Bunches of mud flicked up from the soles of his moving feet and hit his ankles. His Mum would kill him if he ruined his jeans._

_His Mum._

_She appeared out of nowhere only a few feet in front of him._

_Stiles skidded to a stop and stared at her. Her back was to him so he called out her name and she turned._

_Then a figure rose up from behind her, a dark shape, tall with hunched shoulders and lanky legs like that of a dog. Or wolf. He couldn’t see its face but Stiles could feel it smiling at him._

_He tried to move forward or shout warn his Mum. But suddenly his body was frozen in place, paralyzed on the spot, only allowed to watch._

_Watch as the figure opened its mouth opened, revealing a set of sharp fangs that then sunk themselves down into her shoulder._

_Stiles screamed._

_‘Stiles—’_

The dream ended with a violent jolt and Stiles woke up with Allison’s gentle hands on his shoulders. He wasn’t in the woods with fog; he was in his bed at the Camp. Grainy images of that wolf figure dissolved from his mind as he slowly returned to the present. His Mum wasn’t in danger anymore, she was dead. A layer of sweat engulfed his body and senses.

Dressed in a vest and shorts, her face twisted in concern, Allison helped him sit up and then crouched in front of his bed. ‘Stiles, shhh, it’s okay now. It was just a dream. Shhh.’ Her hand rubbed in small circles on his back.

Her other hand stroked his arm and shoulder while Stiles struggled to get breath back to prevent another panic attack.

 _Panting_.

They stayed like this, breathing together, until Stiles calmed down and then raised a hand. Allison retreated, standing and moving over to the wall to flick on the light. Stiles welcomed the sting it gave his eyes, another reminder of the present.

‘Stiles,’ Allison waited until he looked at her before continuing, ‘please go see someone about this. This is the fourth night this week.’

‘No, Allison,’ he said. He’d been here for 3 months now and hadn’t gotten a descent night’s sleep on enough of those days. He ran a hand over his sweat face and through his hair. ‘Hunters do not cry, remember? They’d just send me away or something.’

Allison sighed. ‘That is not what that means. We’re a matriarchy. Girl power!’ she raised a fist in mock gesture. ‘They wouldn’t turn you away. Supporting something like feeds into toxic masculinity…’

Stiles turned away in annoyance and grunted. ‘It’s too late in the night for this information.’

He glanced over to clock on his chest of drawers, reading _04:38_ the second after she said quietly, ‘too early in the morning, you mean.’

Too tired to carry on arguing, regardless, he rose and made his way over to the on-suite. Pausing at the door, he told her, ‘I don’t need help, Allison.’

‘Fine.’ She huffed and folded her arms over her chest. ‘If you won’t go for you, then go for me, your nightmares are keeping me up every night as well, you should know.’

He nodded and disappeared inside. Once the door was close and a barrier was securely fixed between him and her, Stiles lent back against it, bumping his head in frustration. She could be such a nightmare sometimes, with all the happy vibes and caring tone.

He didn’t want this anymore.

Well, to be frank, Allison wasn’t _that_ insufferable. He had simply hoped to turn his back on that part of his life for good. She did happen to be an excellent hunter though, good with a bow and great eye for long range shooting. Stiles, on the other hand, was better with close hand-to-hand combat and short range shooting. Together they would make a good team, fill in each other’s gaps. Hunters were meant to be a team after all.

The tap water, he chucked on his face, felt too cold and sent a shiver down his spine. Stiles couldn’t be asked with a shower, so when he was sure Allison had gone back to bed, he snuck out and darted to his bed, slipping under the covers, face to the wall.

Of course, she _had_ heard him and _then_ decided to talk again. It certainly didn’t help her bed was right next to the on-suite door. ‘Stiles, promise me you will see the nurse tomorrow. Or someone, please.'

‘We’ll see.’ He didn’t roll over to look at her.

When he was properly awoken by his alarm at _07:00_ , Allison was nowhere in sight. Her bed, made neatly, sat empty across the room gathering the morning dust. Stiles didn’t know what he’d expected. Luckily, when she was mad – or experiencing any other emotion in extremity – Allison avoided him so he didn’t have to put up with her sulking. She must have been more annoyed than he remembered.

Yawning, Stiles stretched, feeling the bones click in his arms, got up and then quickly dressed into his jogging gear. He headed down to the dinner hall to find it half-full with students as usual. The canteen was open. Stiles grabbed a bottle of water and an apple, joining his running group at the first row. He’d been starting to pick up some stamina lately and reckoned one more glance at by his instructor and he’d be moved up to the next level where Allison resided. He looked to that group now and saw Allison. When they caught eyes he tried a smile and surprisingly she smiled back.

Despite everything, Stiles admitted he didn’t want to be her enemy. But he still knew she would get in the way of what he was becoming.

It was a couple more minutes before the rest of the students arrived. Normally this was when the Warden showed up, which she did, at the head of the room. She blew her whistle, everyone went silent, she said her usual morning speech about training or honour or whatever and then left again.

Stiles’ running instructor called his group to attention and then led them out onto the field. They were the slowest group therefore didn’t get to use the expanse of woods towards the back of the Camp, which was a shame because the field’s even-levelled ground didn’t provide much entertainment during the twenty minutes they were out there. While stretching, he looked over to the forest, Stiles caught a glimpse of Allison disappearing into the trees before his instructor blew her whistle and the running started.

It had rained sometime in the night or morning, leaving the ground a soggy mess of damp grass and clumpy mud. Stiles could feel the mud hitting his ankles and tried to concentrate on something fast before the visions of his nightmare returned.

Luckily, just then his friend chose to come over and bump his shoulder. They shared a smile because that’s all they could do since running took up most of their lung capacity. Stiles had known Oscar Hall for nearly all his time here. They’d met in his first week and kicked it off because Oscar possessed the odd spark of humour Stiles lost, made it easier to be his old self around Allison. Mainly Stiles liked him because he was so genuine.

Similar only in height, Oscar’s shoulders were broader, his skin dark brown and his hair a darker shade and shorter style. His fitness was also better; Stiles barely managed to keep up with him while they circled the field for as many times as required.

Eventually twenty minutes were up, then Stiles was bent over panting and in need of a shower.

‘Not looking as tired as yesterday, Mr. Stiles,’ Oscar said, standing before him and not panting nearly as much as him.

‘I’m,’ _pant_ , ‘getting there,’ _pant_ , ‘bet you,’ _pant_ , ‘I’ll get moved up,’ _pant_ , ‘in no time.’

Oscar looked to be about to speak again but then something behind Stiles caught his eye and abruptly he straightened. Confused and curious, mind over exhausted to normally process this gesture, Stiles slowly peeked over his shoulder and realised the formality was because Warden Reese was making her way over to their group. Stiles straightened up with the rest of them and stood by Oscar.

‘At ease, soldiers,’ the Warden said upon her approach. She smiled that off beat smile again. ‘I am only here to have a word with one of you.’

A twitch of anxiety shocked through Stiles’ bones that the person she wanted to talk to was him. Had Allison talked with her or something? The woman was her auntie, so it wouldn’t be totally out of the question.

These theories were unfortunately confirmed to be correct, when the Warden made her way over very specifically to Stiles.

‘Master Stilinski, am I right?’ She looked him up and down, inspecting.

‘Yes, sir,’ Stiles said, feeling like a rabbit caught in headlights. ‘Is there something you needed me for?’

Her silence remained for a moment while she regarded Stiles some more, looking him in the eye this time, scheming gently.

The twitch started to become a jolt.

‘Come with me, please.’ And like that she began to walk off, automatically expecting Stiles to follow like an obedient Labrador, he imagined.

Stiles let go of the breath he’d been holding – partly anxiety, partly because he was still out of breath from the run – and glanced at Oscar.

He looked far too amused by this than he should be. Reminded Stiles of Scott. How, whenever Scott was round, and his Dad called Stiles into the other room, Scott would give him this mischievous look like when a kid gets to watch their sibling be told off. Then before Stiles even started to follow the Warden away, Oscar leaned onto shoulder and whispered into his ear, ‘the Warden wants a word with you because you’ve been a naughty boy.’

Stiles almost laughed had he not been so out of breath. However, the ghost of Oscar’s breath on his skin had felt nice. He moved away before something stupid happened. Stiles did like Oscar and he was his type, funny and considerate but this was no time for boyfriends. Plus there was no chance Oscar would like what Stiles was becoming.

The Warden led him off into the Camp’s main building by the usual field entrance. Nothing suspicious so far. He’d gotten to know the whereabouts of every room pretty well by now so when he followed the Warden through a purple only opened by the staff, he knew he was being taken to somewhere usually off limits to the students. The short corridor behind the purple door opened up into a drawing room, which the Warden walked through and into another door at the back. At the end of this corridor, she opened a door and invited Stiles inside what looked like her office. Obviously, students wouldn’t be sent here if they were naughty considering its restricted location but that didn’t mean Stiles liked what this was about.

‘Sit, please.’ The Warden said while closing the door before moving over to the large leather chair on the far side of her desk.

The chair left for Stiles was lower with thin metal bars for the arms and a greeny fabric stitched together for the back. Although it didn’t happen to be as uncomfortable as he expected.

The Warden regarded Stiles as he attempted to get comfortable; the muscles in his back were still coming up sore from training even this far in the year. This was the second the Warden had done and it seemed each time she was searching for something new. Eventually, she said, ‘you do not like me?’

Stiles figured honesty was the best policy since they were being taught to be able to tell if people were lying. ‘No, not really. Sir.’

‘And why is that?’

‘Because I don’t know you, sir.’

‘And you don’t like most people if you don’t know them.’

It was mistake he would only make once. ‘Nowadays, yes. I find them hard to trust, sir.’

The Warden contemplated this answer for awhile let her mind think it over a few times before speaking, ‘surely, everyone is entitled to their privacy.’

‘Not if that privacy gets people killed,’ Stiles said without thinking.

The Warden raised an eyebrow in agreement. ‘You make a fair point, clearly.’ The comment did share similar resemblance to most hunter ideology, but, not in the way Stiles was currently thinking of. It was about keeping the hunter life hidden from the innocent not monster life trying to hide from the hunters. ‘However, it is thinking like that which could, in fact, be the reason the innocent get killed. A lot of the people you will meet in your life, Master Stilinski, will be ordinary humans like you and me. You should not fear someone _until_ that fact is broken for if they are not really ordinary humans, like you and me, they will pick up on your suspicion and act accordingly. In the end, your suspicion could be what leads the situation into catching the killer after the act rather than preventing the killer from committing the crime. Which would you rather want?’

Stiles didn’t need to think. ‘To catch them first, sir.’

The Warden gestured her hand forward as if to say her point had been made. She then exhaled and shuffled around in her seat. ‘You lost someone I’m guessing,’ the Warden said. ‘Excuse me if I am prying but I know the look because I lost someone too.’

Stiles had expected her to say that, he hid his past life well that only someone else to experience it would notice. Even Allison had no idea what his nightmares were caused by and, if her claims were true, she was well awake before Stiles starting murmuring or moaning or anything. ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ he said. ‘Not that it… helps.’

‘You _have_ lost someone then.’ Thankfully the Warden didn’t appear to mean anything malicious behind that conclusion. ‘You don’t have to tell me anything,’ she held up her hand, ‘just listen. Seven years ago, I met a magnificent woman. Anastasia Edwards. Tall, strong, unfaltering kindness. She was the love of my life and I will never forget her. We dated for many months before getting together and then four years later she proposed. I said yes, clearly, and the year after that I started to work here. I grew up like your friend Allison, making my way through hunting school and I was already a fully fledged hunter by the time I met An. She didn’t know, however, I wanted to keep that part of my life hidden from her. It is a choice that got her killed but I do not regret it.’

‘How did it happen?’ Stiles said.

‘She let a werewolf into our home, an Alpha in fact. He must have figured out I was a hunter and killed An as a warning. She was long dead before I even got home. After that, filled with anger and sorrow, my work grew sloppy and I almost got myself killed on one occasion. Allison told me about your nightmare, Master Stilinski. She also said you most likely wouldn’t seek any help about it on your own. I advise you to fight this anger swelling up inside you. I am setting you up with one of our counsellors and you’ll have your first session by the end of the week. If it’s not for you, you only have to say and they stop. Is that clear?’ When Stiles said nothing because he needed a moment to mull over the options of this, the Warden looked concerned and she said, ‘what’s wrong? Therapy isn’t an odd occurrence. Hunting monsters is traumatic business.’

‘It isn’t that. I’m just surprised,’ Stiles said, sincerely. ‘Sir, I would have thought you’d tell me to channel my anger into my skills. You guys seemed like the type to be into the whole “use it on the monsters” vibe.’

‘Hunters do not cry, Master Stilinski,’ the Warden said. ‘They learn to move forward from their pain, instead, and make sure others do not suffer the same.’

‘That rhymes.’

‘Does it?’ The Warden’s eyebrows rose in surprise. ‘A happy coincidence to help you remember. Remember that you should not dwell on that which hurts you. My door is always opening if you wish to talk again.’

Stiles looked down at his hands. ‘I’ll think about it.’

‘You are dismissed, Master Stilinski. Go have your shower and rest before the training at 10.’

He nodded and stood. ‘Thank you, sir.’ The Warden didn’t indicate she was about to get up and show him the way out so Stiles did it himself. Once out he headed straight to the shower rooms and caught Oscar waiting by the entrance, on his phone.

He looked up at the sound of footsteps and grinned when he saw it was Stiles heading towards him.

‘I was worried the Warden would keep you in there too long and you wouldn’t get a shower before training,’ he said as Stiles made his way past him. There was a locker room next to the showers, so Stiles headed towards his first. ‘Plus I would have spent all my breakfast time leaning against that cold ass wall, waiting for you.’

Stiles side-smiled, gathering his things, he gave Oscar one more looked before heading into the shower room. Not following because he didn’t want his hunter attire to get wet, probably, Oscar plopped himself down on a bench until Stiles returned.

For the rest of the day, Stiles couldn’t stop thinking about what the Warden had said. And what would be in sort for him on his first therapy session. He’d never had therapy before, it was something his Dad had suggested but Stiles hadn’t felt ready back then. Maybe he still wasn’t ready now. What if this got in the way of what he wanted to become? A mindless soldier. Someone who could and would kill the monsters in this world that took his Mother from him.

Whatever the outcome, in the end, he had to admit while lying in his bed that night, the consideration did make him feel better. It was nice knowing this place had his back, at least, if things went wrong, just like true families should.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watching the first season of Teen Wolf, reminds me of just how bad an actor Tyler Posey is. He is the Jared Padalecki of the Teen Wolf series.
> 
> Sorry, my Allison is so terrible. Sorry my everything is terrible.


	3. (Notes)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What was left of the notes about this fic in my word doc

**Hunters do not love monsters**

Stiles’ friend is bitten and Stiles chooses to kill him

 _Next, they give you a hard choice and tell you to make it_

Stiles, I… I think it got me.

Shit!

Hunters do not love monsters, Stiles. We can only love humans and he is no longer human.

You’re right.

**_2 years earlier_ **

 

_If I told you that I loved you_

_Tell me, what would you say?_

_If I told you that I hated you_

_Would you go away?_

_Now I need your help with everything that I do._

_I don’t want to lie; I've been relying on you_

                                                                               - The Neighbourhood

 

The warm patch of sunlight moved slowly across the grey fabric of Stiles’ bed covers. Eyes half-lidded and body still, he stared at it.

She didn’t want nightmares so Stiles didn’t sleep.

 

Stiles, I…

Shit!

Hunters do not love monsters, Stiles. We can only love humans and he is no longer human.

You’re right.

Stiles, please

 

**Hunters do as they are told**

Stiles learns to obey orders without question

_And then finally, they demonstrate just how much they know best_

And then one day Allison was just gone.

Stiles came back to an empty room. The bed was messy so she must have packed in a hurry.

 

¬

 

**Too changed to come back properly**

_Stiles returns to Beacon Hills, reunites with Allison and falls out with everyone_

**_1 month earlier_ **

You’re turning into something, Stiles. I don’t know. But I don’t like it – Lydia

 

¬

 

**The bitter match of a bitter hunter**

_Stiles is sent on his first mission, too inexperienced he gets caught by a group of werewolves and is saved by Derek_

They take away his old hate just to fill him with a new one, a reformed


	4. the beginning of some sterek smut...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to excell all the Teen Wolf content from my life...

It wasn’t that Stiles was against it, like sex with Derek Hale who wouldn’t be, but he just hadn’t expected it to come so early. They had been dating for a few months now and the closest they’d got to sex was a really intense make out session on Stiles’ sofa with Derek’s hand down the back of his shirt only to be interrupted by screaming on the TV. (They really shouldn’t watch a horror movie when the prospect of hot, steamy kissing presented itself). Stiles hadn’t really pressed for much since then and now Derek was asking to see more of him. And by more, Derek so wonderfully explained, he wanted to inspect _every inch_ of Stiles’ body for research purposes obviously. The thought had made him shiver but also sent spark of insecurity to the pit of Stiles’ stomach.

To hide this he retorted, ‘but, dude, you’re the mystical species, so really I should be the one studying you for science.’

For a split second he was positive Derek had noticed the compunction in his voice but he didn’t make any attempt to acknowledge it. Instead he smiled warmly and took both of Stiles hands in his. ‘I’m serious,’ he said before leaning in for kiss.

Stiles met him half way and when they pulled back, he nodded. ‘Okay. But we do it at your place. The last thing I need is my Dad walking in on me kissing you, let alone us getting it on like dirty rabbits. And,’ he prodded a finger into Derek’s chest ‘I want dinner first. The whole shebang.’

‘The whole shebang,’ Derek echoed in amusement. ‘Agreed.’

They also agreed to meet at 7pm in Derek’s loft. Stiles forced the smile onto his face as they parted ways because he still had a day full of lessons to get through and the last thing he needed was the worry of _Derek worrying over him_ in the back of his mind.

Scott managed to take his mind off the whole subject during history and for that Stiles had been very thankful. Although he only became aware of this at the end of the lesson since forgetting about sleeping with Derek was like forgetting to consciously breathe, apparently.

The end of the day came too soon in Stiles’ opinion. When he really thought about it he didn’t expect Derek would break up with him over something like this, he just hated the look that would appear on his face Derek when he saw Stiles naked. Derek was _perfect_. Well, the rest of him probably would be, Stiles had only seen his top half from that devilish exploitation for Danny. Stiles was lanky and lumpy and hairy in odd places and not _good enough_. He tried to swallow those thoughts down as he drove up to the loft. His Dad had had another late night so Stiles left a note and texted Scott just in case his Dad decided to come looking for him. Stiles still hadn’t told him about his relationship with Derek but that was a problem for another day.

Derek grinned lightly when Stiles eventually slid the door open to his loft after felt what like the longest walk from his jeep to that door in his life. He swore there were more stares to this place. Derek took Stiles’ over-night bang, dumping it next to his bed in the corner, and guided Stiles to a chair and table. Apparently his delayed arrival meant Derek had finished dinner before he’d got there so the food was in front of him the moment he sat comfortably. Great. Less time before they… Perfect.

They had fish, which Derek cooked perfectly. Another thing that happened to be perfect about him. Admittedly Stiles wasn’t a lousy cook himself but his ability remained unlevelled to Derek’s. They didn’t talk much and before Stiles knew it, the plates were empty and Derek stood by him, holding out his hand.

Swallowing nervously, Stiles took it and let Derek guide him to his bed. The mattress gave way underneath him, not helping Stiles’ rising anxiety, which needed stability right about now. Maybe it was the werewolf senses or perhaps the signs were imprinted into Stiles’ features too much but Derek could definitely tell Stiles was hiding something. Calmly he placed Stiles’ hands on his hip and put his own Stiles’ shoulders.

‘Please tell me what’s wrong,’ he said firmly and then when Stiles clearly went to deny everything, he added, ‘come on, Stiles. A blind man could read you like a map. And yes the only blind person I know was also a werewolf but that is not the point. Something is bothering you and I want to know what.’ His eyes dropped for moment as his mind thought of how to say this next bit. ‘If I’m pushing you too far too soon just say it, okay? I get this is your first real relationship and—’

‘It’s not like that,’ Stiles interjected.

Derek fell silent and looked to him patiently. He didn’t need to speak, his eyes asked Stiles to continue on their own.

‘I just—’ Stiles began. He swallowed again. What was that now? Like the seventh time in the last hour? How saliva did he even have left? ‘It’s not that… I don’t want to do this because I do. A lot. You’re so… and that’s the problem.’

Derek frowned, obviously not getting the point. ‘I’m so _what_?’

‘Perfect. Body-wise. I mean because obviously you’re not perfect everywhere else.’ Stiles immediately realised how rude that had sounded and so quickly said, ‘although neither are most people. You need not be disheartened by your lack of social skills.’ A black hole should have just appeared in the middle of the room and sucked him away forever. ‘And I’m going to shut up now.’ He lowered his head and bumped it into Derek’s chest, unable to look at him anymore.

‘Stiles,’ Derek whispered but he wasn’t moving, especially if Derek wanted him to continue some more.

Stile sighed and felt Derek’s chest react to the hot breath ghosting over his thin shirt. He also felt the perfect cross section of abs against his forehead and his insecurities deepened. Finally managing the courage, he said, ‘I’m worried you won’t like what you see.’

Despite his obvious discomfort, Derek moved his hands to Stiles’ face and brought his head up with his hands.

Stiles still couldn’t look at him, though. ‘Compared you, I’m nothing. I don’t have any muscle development like Allison or Scott. My thighs and butt are lumpy and there are stupid sections of hair darted in odd places.’ This time he looked Derek in the eye and the expression on his face took Stiles aback. He’d expected pity or disbelieving reassurance but in fact, if anything, Derek looked fond. It made Stiles heart swell and he stuttered his next words, ‘I-I d-don’t expect you to, um,’ Cough. ‘Break up with me or anything.’ Were those tears in his eyes? Why was he crying? Of all the times? ‘You’ll just be a little disappointed that’s all.’ Out of any of the expressions Stiles could have chosen at that moment he went for a huge grin. It felt incredibly out of place on his face and if Derek’s expression was anything to go by it looked out of place as well.

‘Nothing important,’ Stiles said when Derek didn’t speak.

‘Well if you’d let me I’d like to make my own decision on that.'

**Author's Note:**

> Discontinued until I can be asked to delete it, not that anyone gives a fuck


End file.
